


Can't Pin You Down

by rideswraptors



Series: Phenomena [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caution: Smut Ahead, F/M, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon threw the car into park and gesticulated wildly. “That’s my point!” He looked around the front yard, to the sides, even out the back window. “Okay. Coast is clear. If we make a break for it now, I think we can be in Queenscrown by noon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I posting so much?  
> I mean, honestly, I would be sick of reading my stuff.  
> This is absurd. I don't know, don't ask me.

“Oh shit.”

 

“What? Did you hit something? Why are you making that face? ...I really hate it when you do this…”

 

Jon pointed over his steering wheel, “No, Sansa, _look_.” She whipped her gaze in the direction his finger was pointing and frowned.

 

“Huh, I don't recognize the car.”

 

Jon whimpered a little, “It’s Mormont’s.” Sansa immediately stiffened.

 

“ _Jorah_ Mormont’s? But why would he be here if she—?”

 

“He _wouldn’t_.”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Jon threw the car into park and gesticulated wildly. “That’s my point!” He looked around the front yard, to the sides, even out the back window. “Okay. Coast is clear. If we make a break for it now, I think we can be in Queenscrown by noon.”

 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

 

He arched a brow, “Is that not far enough?”

 

Sansa’s only response was to scowl and get out of the car. Despite his yelp and roughly whispered protests. When he didn’t follow, she stomped back, yanked the door open, and ducked down to look him square in the eye.

 

“You are being a dramatic two year old. Let the dogs out and get inside before I send Arya out to get you.”

 

“That was one time!”

 

“And yet you still look terrified!” she bandied back. “Now move it!”

 

Once upon a time, Sunday breakfast at the Stark’s was an informal, unplanned thing. Whoever was in the house was treated to breakfast served up by Ned and Cat. You could show up unannounced and still get served. But there was never a set time or tradition to it because the kids were usually all there.

 

When Rickon moved into his city apartment to shorten his school commute, her mother finally put her foot down and demanded that everyone make an appearance for Sunday breakfast at 9:45. If you were late, there would be hell to pay. If you were early, you helped cook and got prime pickings. Everyone else cleaned up.

 

But still, it was the Starks, so almost anyone could drop in and still get a hot meal. Jon was a frequent guest, sometimes his mom as well. Sam and Gilly liked to come once a month. Gendry was a regular since he’d started officially dating Arya. Bran brought Meera and Joe around, while Rickon never invited anyone. There were others, Sansa was sure. She’d brought Margaery and Myranda. And Joff. Only the once, though, and never Harry.

 

The thing was that Jon had been conspicuously absent more often than not since Sansa had started seeing him. When Sam called them out on their very obvious behavior, Jon got spooked and refused to do Stark Family Events until everyone knew about them. Well, the cat was out of the bag, so she’d all but dragged him to this breakfast. Especially since everyone was expecting them to arrive together.

 

Although, she really should have expected Robb to pull a dick move. And inviting Dany Targaryen to Sunday breakfast when Jon still hadn’t told her about Sansa was the definition of a dick move.

 

Lady and Ghost barreled past her as she opened the front door. Lady cheerfully yipped and barked her greetings to the other Stark Malamutes, with Ghost as her silent shadow. Once the dogs were safely in the house, she turned around and put a hand up to intercept Jon’s chest. In rare form, he’d worn a downy gray button down and his nicer black jeans, not to mention the shoes, belt, and sunglasses Sansa had all but forced him to buy. She liked his henleys and his old Levis, of course, but if they were officially a _thing,_ he was going to have to pass inspection.

 

She smirked when his pupils flashed wide at her proximity. Something she would never get tired of. Now that he was out of the car, she figured it would be safe to indulge him. Lifting her hands to his face, she jerked him to her to kiss him thoroughly. Loving, tugging presses with no real intent behind them. His hand still went right to her ass, though, and if she wasn’t careful he’d be hauling her into his arms to cart her off to some dark corner. It wouldn’t be the first time. So she gentled him, lightening their kiss and bringing it to a tender stop, nuzzling against his cheek.

 

“It’s gonna be fine,” she murmured, knocking her nose against his cheek. He exhaled slowly, shakily, and she felt his hands clenched into her dress.

 

“Why do I feel like we’re about to face the firing squad?”

 

She snorted, “Robb’s ridiculous family meeting wasn’t enough?” He groaned and knocked his forehead to hers.

 

“Are you _sure_ we can’t go to Queenscrown?”

 

“Yes,” she said firmly before pecking his lips hard and quick. Then she took his hand and dragged him through the front door. “Mom!” she shouted, “We’re here!”

 

“In the kitchen!” her mother’s voice floated back over the music and loud hum of multiple (loud) conversations.

 

“...stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

 

“No, it really happened. I swear!”

 

“Only in your dreams, Rick.”

 

“ _Guys_ — hey, it’s Jon!”

 

Sansa scowled, “Hello to you, too, youngest brother dearest.” They were overwhelmed immediately with greetings from dogs and people. Grey Wind cantered over at full speed and nearly tackled Jon to the ground, much to everyone’s amusement. Except Jeyne. She shrieked at Robb to get his dog under control. They endured smirks from the boys and a sly wink from Arya, but Sansa’s mother greeted them with a warm smile and twinkling eyes.

 

She went to Jon first, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt and patting his face fondly. Sansa actually had to look away from their tender exchange, afraid she was going to get choked up. Cat had started babysitting Jon for Aunt Lyanna when he was just a few weeks old. She was a single mom who couldn’t afford to miss much work, and Cat was already bogged down with baby Robb and a dog training center to help run, but the Starks didn’t even hesitate in saying yes. Jon and her mother had always had this oddly intense relationship, to the point that Jon was always much more nervous about disappointing Cat than his own mom. He loved Lyanna, for sure, but Cat never treated him differently or made excuses for him because of his background. She expected, well, demanded, a higher level of behavior and achievement from Jon than from her own sons. It was probably the main reason he never went off the rails like other boys did. They communicated quietly, on a wavelength Sansa couldn’t interpret before Cat kissed his cheek.

 

“Now when are you going to let me cut your hair?”

 

Jon groaned and Sansa rolled her eyes, “Mom, don't start.”

 

“What? It’s a valid question, hasn’t gotten quite long?”

 

Rickon was snickering from his stool on the island, “Yeah, but Sansa probably likes having something to hold onto.”

 

“ _Rickon Edmure Stark_!”

 

Their outrage was completely nullified by Gendry’s chortles, fist bumping the youngest Stark on the sly. Sansa only settled when, moving to the fridge, Jon cuffed them both upside the head.

 

“What does Sansa like?” Ned Stark’s curious voice broke through the low hum of noise, getting all of Sansa’s attention. She smiled brightly and skipped over to go on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

 

“Nothing, Daddy. Have I mentioned lately that all of your sons are absolutely horrible?” 

 

He blinked, “Yesterday. On the phone.”

 

“Oh good, thought I’d missed one,” she answered wistfully, striding over to help her mother cut up fruit.

 

“Jon!” her father said brightly, reaching out to shake his hand. “Sansa managed to drag you out of your cave, eh?”

 

“Kicking and screaming,” she chirped brightly, raising her brows when Jon scowled over at her.

 

“I’ve been slammed at work, otherwise I would’ve been here,” he lied smoothly. Sansa had to resist snorting. But her father was nodding and pointing like this was something he’d been saying himself.

 

“They work you too hard. I was just telling Dany that your department was far too understaffed. How is one man supposed to work 110 cases a month?” Of course, this prompted a discussion between the two men about office dynamics and certain cases he’d taken on. Sansa smiled at the pair of them, gruff tones and furrowed eyebrows. Defenders of lost causes, the both of them. Jon worked with troubled teenagers, addicts, kids in the system. Her father rescued dogs. Any breed, he didn’t care, he’d take them in, foster them, train them, and help the shelter adopt them out. That’s why he’d founded the training center. Fosters could bring their doggie wards for obedience training for a fraction of the price. All of the shelters and a good many of the local breeders recommended him. He and Jon were notorious for taking on the worst of the worst cases.

 

The conversation was quickly interrupted when a streak of silver blonde hair came around the corner.

 

“Jonathan Rhaegar Snow, I bought you a phone so that you would take my calls!” Dany snapped as she approached him, kissing both of his cheeks. “You’re as bad as your father. I call and I call and I call and what do I get? Nothing.”

 

“Hi, Auntie.”

 

“Don’t you _Auntie_ me, boy. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks.”

 

Jon held up placating hands, “I know and I'm sorry. I’ve been a bit preoccupied. But now I'm all yours, yeah?” Of course, she laid into him almost immediately with a stream of complaints and things she needed from him. Jon smiled and patted her back soothingly, accepting all of her irritation graciously, promising to atone for his prolonged absence.

 

“...and I need you at the press conference next week.”

 

“I already told you—”

 

“Why don't you discuss this over some food, yeah?” Ned intervened smoothly, clapping Jon on the shoulder with more force than strictly necessary. It was a common indicator that one of the boys needed to shut up and listen. With that, her mom clapped her hands together and ordered everyone to carry in the food to the dining room. She sent Rickon to pry Jorah, Bran, and Arya away from the rugby match on in the den. Robb was ordered to let all of the dogs out.

 

They all filtered in, talking over one another and engaging in far too many conversations. Sansa sat down quickly next to Jon, blocking out Arya to get there and sneaking past Robb’s pathetic attempt to block her. No way in hell was she sitting across from the moony eyed idiot when she could hold his hand instead. She spat her tongue at Robb in victory and chuckled when Jeyne sat on the other side of Jon, making Robb pout. Dany sat on the other side of Sansa, immediately complimenting her outfit.

 

“You always look so lovely and put together, dear. Honestly, the girls your age would rather run around in crop tops and yoga pants than a decent outfit. You _have_ to let me introduce you to my friend, Missy Andei. She’s designing a new line and your figure would be absolutely perfect…” They trailed off into a discussion about fashion trends that had Robb and Rickon groaning, but Bran was actually interested.

 

Hardly a single one of them took a breath as food was passed around. Rickon was interrogated about his chances for nationals. Arya and Jorah argued with Gendry about certain points in rugby, about their various teams. Questions were volleyed at Jon from all sides about work, Gilly and Sam, and he had to actively dodge pointed and suggestive questions from her siblings about his personal life. Robb, naturally, was the worst, and kept loudly asking about the mysterious girlfriend he hadn’t met.

 

“...I’d like to meet her is all I'm saying—”

 

“ _Robb_ I swear to god—” Seeing the vein his head started to bulge, Sansa wrapped her foot around his ankle, subtly stroking up the side. The tension instantly drained from Jon’s face.

 

“What’s wrong with her, then? Droopy eye? Third boob? She a humpback?”

 

“Oh-kay!” Sansa interrupted throwing her fork down loudly, much to her mother’s protest. “Dad, Dany, Jon and I are together. Have been for 3 months. And I'm moving in with him.” She shot a glare at a delighted Robb. Then she scooched her chair closer to Jon’s, picked up his hand, draped his arm around her shoulders, and leaned into him. The no-touching him rule had actually been grating on her nerves since the second they walked in the door. During the short silence that followed while everyone waited for Ned’s reaction, Jon kept eating like nothing was happening.

 

“Oh,” her father said shortly. “Good.” He shrugged and then also went back to eating.

 

“About damn time,” Dany muttered, reaching for a muffin.

 

This prompted an explosion from the other members of the family. Mostly due to confusion about the living arrangements. There were protests about it being too soon. Questions about Lady and Ghost.

 

“Sansa you work on the other side of town!”

 

Dany also had some questions, though hers were quieter and much more polite, so Sansa answered them in greater detail. The only person other than her father to be silent on the subject was Bran, who merely winked at her. Bran was of the opinion that you shouldn’t give advice unless it’s asked for. He also had a unique understanding of wanting people to mind their own business. Her father ignored the whole thing, though Sansa very well knew that he would voice his concerns later, in private.

 

Jon kept eating throughout everyone’s heckling, staring dully across at Jorah as he gave advice on living with women. So Sansa was forced to answer the basic questions and bandy back nonsense at her siblings. Robb, for his part, was thoroughly enjoying the chaos he’d instigated.

 

Sansa was having a hard time being annoyed by any of it though. Jon’s arm had slipped down comfortably around her waist, his hand on her hip, thumb grazing even as his hand squeezed. His finger kept bunching up the skirt of her dress, and she’d have to put a stop to that soon. Her foot was still twined around his, legs resting heavily against each other. Now if she could just get his lips on her neck and his hand between her legs, she would be set. Alas.

 

When they were younger, Sansa had often thought about what it would be like to date Jon Snow. All the girls in her year had. He was broody, had a mysterious, troubled childhood, and had a godlike swimmer’s body. He was at the top of every girl’s fantasy list. But, he had also started dating Ygritte in his junior year, and the girl was notorious for her bad temper and jealousy. She’d beaten the crap out of Val one time just because she said Jon looked good in his swim gear. And actually, even Sansa had a run-in with Ygritte. Not that she would ever tell Jon that. She didn’t hit her or anything, but there were definitely threats and insults.

 

Evidently, Ygritte didn’t like how much time Jon spent with the Starks and specifically with Sansa. But even when they were little, Jon made an effort to include Sansa. When Robb and Theon started to not want girls, especially prissy younger ones, hanging around, Jon and Sam would hang back to stay with her. He always defended her to Robb and Arya, and never teased her for being too fussy or girly. When she thought about the perfect guy she wanted, he always ended up looking a little like Jon. It was pretty normal for girls to fantasize about their brothers’ friends. Sam was nice, but too shy and not her type. Theon had almost always been too energetic and too pervy to live. So it had always been Jon. He made her feel safe and included and he had nice eyes.

 

So imagine her horror when a few weeks back she realized that Joffrey had imitated the chivalry and niceties that were so inherent in Jon. And that Harry and Jon had similar physiques. She was having trouble sorting out if she liked Jon because of the qualities she liked in the other two, or if it had really been Jon she wanted all along. It would have been disingenuous to try to find an answer, at the very least. But in hindsight, maybe Ygritte had a point?

 

“Well it’s good to see nothing around here changes!” a sweetly familiar voice laughed from the doorway. They all turned to see Lyanna Snow, brown curls, pretty smile, and gorgeous as ever. “What’d I miss?”

 

A hush fell over the table and everyone’s heads whipped to Jon. Of course, because no one had heard from Lyanna in a few months. Sansa knew she and Jon had a fight before she left for Reno, but he was stunningly unforthcoming about the details. So she was a little irritated when Jon’s arm slipped away from her and he was on his feet in an instant.

 

“Mom,” he went over to kiss her cheek, which she returned with a warm smile. “I didn’t know you were...you didn’t...When did you get back into town?”

 

She giggled, “Last night! And lucky for me, Ned called and told me you would all be here for breakfast, so I thought I’d swing by.” The Starks all greeted her warmly and even Dany was happy to see her, but Jon quickly excused them from the room, ushering her outside to talk. Sansa’s mom tactfully prompted a new conversation, but both Sansa and Dany had a clear view of Jon with Lyanna. She was talking animatedly with a bright smile on her face, while he crossed his arms, nodding his head even as he stared down at his feet.

 

“She’s going to be a rough one to contend with,” Dany muttered quietly to Sansa. Which, on some level, Sansa understood. Jon and Lyanna were close, and more so than the average mother and son. Lyanna depended on Jon for just about everything; she expected a lot from him.

 

“Do you think so?” Sansa asked lightly, trying to seem unperturbed. Dany wasn’t fooled. You really couldn't fool Daenerys Targaryen.

 

“It will take a good deal of work to separate them.”

 

“I don't _want_ to separate them.”

 

“Maybe not now, but I can guarantee you that none of the other girls worked out because _she_ meddled.” Sansa took a long look at the small smile on Jon’s face, the fond look in his eyes as his mother continued to talk and she settled. She poured herself more coffee and then she looked at Dany with fire in her eyes.

 

“I'm not _other girls_.”

 

Dany seemed to take this for what it meant. And it definitely wasn’t a slight on other women. Her cheeks dimpled though a smile didn’t grace her lips.

 

“Good.”

 

Eventually Jon and Lyanna rejoined the group, everyone shuffling around to make room for their late arrival. Lyanna entertained them with stories about her latest exploits in Reno. She worked as a flight attendant most of the time, and for the past several months had been on flights to and from Reno, mostly short, commercial flights. Some were private. She always had the best stories about passengers and the random people she met.

 

Sansa could tell that Jon was happy to see her. Happy to have resolved whatever was going on with them, but he was still tense. Immediately when he sat down, he pulled her hand into his lap, holding on more tightly than strictly necessary. She let him. She even dropped her chin to his shoulder every once in a while, pressed a kiss there. Sansa liked Lyanna, she really did, but she couldn’t care less what she thought about their relationship.

 

But soon enough, everyone was finishing and moving into the living room or backyard to sit around. Sansa volunteered Jon and herself to do dishes, which had him scowling. But when she goosed him on her way to the kitchen he was quick on her heels. She barely had her pile of dishes in the sink before he was plastered along her back.

 

“You do know my _father_ —”

 

“Is outside with Robb and Jorah.”

 

“And our mothers?”

 

He slid her hair over her shoulder, wrapped an arm around her middle, and nosed against her ear.

 

“In the den with Dany and Jeyne, probably planning our wedding.” Sansa spun in his arms and put her hands to his chest.

 

“Oh good,” she chirped glibly, just before he leaned and kissed her breathless. Of course, she kind of lost a grip on herself, and before she knew it he was picking her up and putting her up on the counter. It gave her the leverage and control she adored having, moving him as she liked, wrapping her legs around his hips without concern that it would escalate. He was always so careful with her, generous and conscientious in ways no one ever had been. He got her to take more breaks not only from work, but from working out. He got her outside more often, spending more time with Lady. She was sleeping better, eating better, feeling better. He even convinced her to get her IUD taken out, since the thing had always given her more anxiety than comfort. He’d pushed her to make amends with Marg and Myranda, to get out and socialize with her old group, sometimes with him but mostly without. Harry insisted on going out with her no matter who would be there. It was definitely different.

 

So she was feeling amorous and appreciative, and caved into the push and pull of their exchange. His mouth moved slow and languorous over hers, but his hands were already sliding up her skirt, reaching for her hips. Sansa pushed herself further into his grasp, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding her tongue into his mouth. She’d probably never get tired of kissing him. It was a stupid, silly thought, but it felt true. The sex was great, it was spectacular. Like, trashy romance novel worthy sex. The kind of sex older married women talked about having with a fling or one night stand from college. _The best they ever had_. Though, from what Sansa understood, most of those guys were in jail. But Jon was amazing, perfect, eager without being rushed or pushy, and always up for whatever she wanted. And just from their first night together, he was up for a lot more than she would have thought. So the kissing was like that anticipation before eating sweets. You know you love it, it smells amazing and gives you a warm, homey feeling. That’s how she felt with Jon. You know, without the sugar crash and aching stomach afterward. Sansa was so revved up, thinking about sliding her hands under his shirt that she didn’t notice they had company.

 

“Aaaaaah! My eyes! Gendry cover my eyes!” They ripped apart from each other just in time to see Gendry clap both hands over Arya’s eyes so she could spastically gesticulate. She kept ranting at them about being unhygienic and common areas and how she needed to bleach her brain. She had Gendry navigate her over to the living room, where she was intending to search for her phone, his hands still covering her eyes.

 

“Very mature, Underfoot!” Jon shouted after them. Sansa snorted when Arya’s middle finger shot up unhesitatingly.

 

“We should probably start the dishes,” she said, laughing through her nose.

 

“I’ll do it. You sit and keep me company.” He kissed her soundly and did just that. Sansa didn’t argue about the washing, but she did insist in helping dry and put away. Once finished, she flicked some stray suds at his face and tried to make a break for it. She didn't make it far; he caught up quickly and swung her around by the middle, hauling her into the backyard.

 

“My daughter is not a bag of kibble, Jon,” her father scolded lightly. Though anyone could see the vein of amusement on his face. Jon barked out a laugh and set her down anyway.

 

“Sorry, sir.”

 

He waved him off, “Come have a look at this pup Varly and I picked up. Be interested in your take on the breed.”

 

“Sure,” Jon agreed easily. He kissed the side of Sansa’s head before jogging after her father to the kennels. Robb went with them, shoving at Jon who shoved back before Ned cuffed them both upside the head, which only prompted them to slyly attempt to trip each other.

 

Sansa, smiling fondly as she watched them go, dropped to a crouch to greet the dogs, Lady coming up to nudge her side, while the others licked her outstretched hands and wrists. Ghost lingered in the back, sitting down and angled so that he could see both Jon and Sansa. He was strangely protective of them both. And of Lady. But he had always preferred Lady’s company, even as pups. She turned her face up with a soft smile to greet Jorah when he came to stand near her and the pack of dogs.

 

“So you and Jon are pretty serious, then?” he asked softly, though his voice was gruff. Sansa turned her attention to scratching Shaggy’s scruff and ears.

 

“More than we thought we’d be, I think.” She cut a glance over to the kennels just in time to see Jon shoot a look in her direction. His smile as he turned to answer her father’s question was enough confirmation that he’d seen her looking.

 

“Well, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him,” Jorah murmured thoughtfully, hands shoved in his pockets and watching them.

 

Coming from Jorah, that statement actually meant something. He had been Dany’s adviser since before Jon was born. In fact, he was the one who originally approached her father when Lyanna got pregnant. Dany, at first, wanted to pay Ned Stark to put his name on Jon’s birth certificate as the father. Her political career had just started taking off, and her brother’s unchecked behavior would have caused a scandal. Ultimately, her father refused because it would have hurt her mother more than she would ever care to admit. Sansa was also endlessly grateful because otherwise, she would have had a half-brother instead of friend and boyfriend. And how strange would that have turned out?

 

So Jorah had seen Jon through just about everything, keeping tabs on him, passing updates along to Dany. Jon didn't meet her face to face until he was six years old and Rhaegar had died. From there, it was like love at first sight. She took an active interest in his health, well-being, and education. She covered his expenses for everything from tuition to vacations. She saw him once a week at least and they spoke more often than that. Jon idolized her, and she was a huge factor in his decision to go into social work. Well, both her and Lyanna, especially.

 

Sansa looked up at Jorah again, a little confused by his tone. They’d not spent much time together, but Jon respected him. He often said the man veered toward preachy on occasion.

 

“I hope he is,” she answered evenly. “I know I am.”

 

He drew his lips into a tight line, “That’s good...I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

 

Sansa stood to full height, brushing her hands off.  “I really don't think that’s any concern of yours.”

 

“No offense, Miss Stark, but there are days when Jon is my _only_ concern.”

 

They eyed one another carefully, each sizing the other up. She’d heard whispers about the things Jorah Mormont was willing to do to protect Dany. Evidently, that dedication extended to Jon as well.

 

“Jon’s very lucky to have so many people concerned with his well-being.”

 

“I agree.”

 

She folded her arms across her chest, “I intend to be one of those people for as long as humanly possible.”

 

“As you said, you have only been together for three months. Who’s to say your mind won’t change in another three?”

 

She hummed, looking down at her feet. Impractical, strappy sandals, ones that looked so at odds with her parents’ dusty backyard.

 

“Mr. Mormont, I don't know you very well and I can guarantee that you don't know me. So I won’t offend you by asking a question I already know the answer to. There’s this moment that happens when you know you really love someone. It’s short, it doesn’t even make any sense. It happens at the worst possible moment, nothing special or romantic or even particularly memorable. You just look up and you see them and it hits you. Do you know what I mean?” He didn’t answer, but it was clear that he did.

 

“I’d only read about stuff like that. Pretty scenes with dramatic realizations and grand romantic gestures. I really thought I wanted all of that. Exactly like that, but—” She angled herself in Jon’s direction, needing to catch a glimpse of him for extra courage. “But I had a rough day at work a while back. I lost a patient.” Ghost got to his feet and ambled over to Sansa, nudging her hand, flipping it up onto his head for her to pet him. She chuckled, just like his owner. Whenever Jon wanted a head rub, he just picked up her hand and plopped it on his head. Ghost licked at her wrist while she scratched behind his ears.

 

“That must be hard.”

 

“Usually, but you learn to accept it. Still rough the day of though. I was on the couch, wallowing, and Jon came over. He was trying to cheer me up, being absolutely ridiculous. And he _slipped_. Landed right on his ass, and I started laughing. Tears, sides hurting, all of it. He got _so mad_ at me for laughing at him that he pulled me down on the floor with him. I hit my elbow on the coffee table, the dogs jumped on us, it was absolutely stupid. But I just looked over at him and—you know?”

 

He sighed. “I do.” Ghost huffed at her, wanting her full attention on the spot between his eyes. She obliged.

 

“I feel that way whenever I see him. All the time. But not like this crazy, intense obsessive thing. It’s so comfortable and easy, and...I feel stronger. He makes me feel stronger. Like I can do anything. You know what I mean?”

 

She turned back to Jorah, hoping he knew what she was trying to say. He was watching her with a lot of feeling, a lot of feelings she couldn’t interpret. There was something about his eyes, something pained and familiar that Sansa understood all too well. His only response was to nod.

 

“Jorah? Why did Dany and Daario break up?”

 

A line formed between his brows and he swallowed thickly, not taking his eyes off of her before he shifted his weight and cleared his throat.

 

“Smart girl like you?” He sighed and looked back to her. “You know why.”

 

Sansa put a comforting hand to his upper arm just as Dany called out to him from the deck. They both turned to see her make a gesture which Jorah seemed to understand.

 

“Ah. Right. Dany wants me to convince you to convince Jon to go to the press conference.”

 

She frowned. “He hates doing that.”

 

“She thinks important.”

 

“He already said no.”

 

“Hence the convincing.” She hesitated, twisting her lips up. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t something she really wanted.”

 

“Jon isn’t a bit she can use for the press.”

 

“That isn’t what this is. Miss Stark—”

 

“You’re asking me to pimp the man I love out to a dog and pony show for your boss’ political benefit, you can at least use my name.”

 

“Sansa, I think that Daenerys could really use some support at this press conference. I think she needs her family.”

 

Sansa stiffened and her heart clenched, “That I can get behind. Can I attend as well?” She shifted her weight stubbornly. Jorah smiled at her lightly and dipped his head.

 

“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

 

She straightened, “I will, too. No promises.” They nodded at each other and shook hands on it.

 

“What are you two shaking hands about?” Jon asked, striding over with an odd look on his face. So Sansa smiled sweetly, jutting her hip out flirtatiously.

 

“Our plot to murder your aunt and run away to Queenscrown,” she teased, not bothering to check for Jorah’s reaction to her nonsense. Jon rolled his eyes. The dogs took off when they heard the food whistle her father kept in the kennels, racing each other to get first bowl. Ghost licked her hand before trotting after the rest of them.

 

“You’re such a comedian.”

 

“A _female_ comedian because obviously I can’t be anything without first announcing my gender.”

 

“Obviously,” he deadpanned, threading his fingers through hers.

 

“So I think we should go watch that manly male football game.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You hate football.”

 

“Passionately, but I don't hate taking naps on you while you watch football.”

 

“Okay, but the last time you did that you drooled on me.”

 

“One time thing.”

 

He winced regretfully, “Ooh, did it the time before too. And the one before that.”

 

“Slander.”

 

“And the one before that.”

 

“Foul lies to besmirch my good name. Now,” she grabbed one of his hands in both of hers and dragged him toward the house. “You have to fight Rickon for the good chair and we need to re-position the snack table in our favor because otherwise you’re going to disturb my nap and I’ll have to watch football.”

 

“You’ve thought this out.”

 

“I think out everything.” When the door shut behind them, she pulled him into the pantry, flipped on the light, and shut that door behind them.

 

“Odd place to watch football,” he said with faux thoughtfulness as he sidled closer to her. Sansa accepted his kiss eagerly, but broke it off before he got too many ideas.

 

“You have to go to that press conference,” she told him carefully. Her chest tightened as he frowned and pulled back from her. She didn’t let him get space, instead she held onto his arms, closing the gap between them.

 

“Did Jorah tell you that?”

 

“No.” His brows shot up. “Well, he asked.”

 

“You mean she asked him to ask you to talk to me.”

 

She played that back and nodded, “Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Jon, I really think—” He cut her off with a quick kiss.

 

“No. Okay? End of conversation.” He moved for the door, but she slid around to block him.

 

“No. Not okay. And not the end of the conversation.”

 

“Sansa, this isn’t really up for debate. It’s my family, so it’s my decision.”

 

“I just—” She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. “Dany can’t have kids.” He blinked at her, slowly, not really comprehending.

 

“What?”

 

“That’s why Drogo left. That’s why Daario left. She can’t have children, she’s infertile.”

 

“So what does that have to do with—?”

 

“Have you ever considered that you’re her only family? That she’s never going to have a son of her own? That both of her brothers are dead? I mean, I know it’s basically a side show sometimes, but you’re all she has and if she needs the support, I honestly think you should give it. I’ll go with you, I already talked to Jorah. I don’t mind it at all, it could actually be kind of fun. We’ll make a game of it or whatever. How many reporters can we confuse? Or I don’t know…piss off security people, sneak backstage to make out. I’m sure we’ll think of something. But she’s asking and she needs you to show up, you’ve got to show up.”

 

He stared at her, and truth be told, she wasn’t sure if he was gearing up to shout at her or give in and say yes. There were times when she knew him so well, when she could flip through her mental catalogue of information she had about him and suss out what his reaction might be. But other times, times like this, he was like a brick wall, blank and blocked off from her. She remembered thinking that the first night they were together; one moment his heart was on his sleeve, and the next it was like she was trying to hunt him down in a white out. She still had hands on his wrists, could feel his pulse thump under her fingers, and she found that her own quickened to match his. Sansa was about to ask if he was okay or if he was mad at her, apologize maybe, but then he was crowding her against the door and covering her mouth with his.

 

He was aggressive and relentless, not giving her a moment to catch up or catch her breath, which was so unlike him. He had a solid hand on her chin, keeping her in place, overwhelming her with the onslaught of whatever feeling he was riding out. Sansa struggled to respond for only a moment, before letting herself be swept out with the tide.

 

There was a part of her that always wondered when Jon’s control would snap. Wondered if all that caution and restraint was an act that would eventually fall away. In her experience, it usually did. Men lost their tempers, they got reckless, they got mean, especially if you resisted. For Joff, it had taken six months. Harry took two. The possibilities with Jon frightened her. His bruising kisses, his sudden intensity, the strangeness of his mood, it was all too reminiscent of the time Harry had pinned her, of the time Joff had threatened to do so in public, just to humiliate her. The thought had Sansa gasping and cringing away from Jon.

 

And he broke off the kiss immediately, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on her. He just dropped gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder, gathering her up in his arms and mumbling apologies. That’s when she felt the wetness, felt tears on his cheeks. She angled his face up to hers, wiping at the streaks with her thumbs. Wordlessly, she straightened him up, adjusting the lay of his shirt, tucking hair behind his ear, wiping the rest of his tears with the handkerchief he’d given her. She cupped his face to catch his gaze.

 

“I’ll go with you, okay?” He nodded shortly, brow puckered and still silent. So she tipped his head down and pressed a lingering kiss there.

 

They went out into the den where everyone was crowded on the couches, armchairs, and bean bags watching the game. A few of them spared Jon and Sansa a glance, and snorted when Jon booted Rickon from the “good” armchair, to sit on the floor. He flopped into the chair, pulling Sansa into his lap as he went. She stretched her legs across his lap, curling up against him and tucking her head under his chin. His arms immediately went around her, holding her to him. She felt the press of his lips to the top of her head and let her eyes flutter shut despite the noise in the room. People were talking over each other, talking at the screen, arguing uselessly with the referee and commentators, and generally not paying Jon and Sansa any mind. So she let herself sink into the smell of him and home as her family chattered around her, and finally settled enough to drift off to sleep.

 

*

Sometime later, Sansa blearily felt herself waking up, a little stiff but warm under a blanket in Jon’s lap. She was too comfortable to open her eyes, wanting to hold onto sleep for a bit longer. Under her hand, Jon’s chest rose and fell in a familiar pattern, indicating that he’d fallen asleep too. The volume on the game had been turned down, and she could vaguely hear the hum of conversation from the kitchen. Half time, maybe? Probably getting refills. However, she was pulled into consciousness by the sound of Robb and her father talking quietly.

 

“…expecting it, actually.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

Her father scoffed, “Because you don’t pay attention. He’s been on her heels since you were fifteen.”

 

“ _Nooo_ ,” Robb insisted. “No way he’s been holding back that long.”

 

“For your benefit, I think. Or he’s as blind as you are.”

 

There was a long, heavy pause, and Sansa felt that eerie sensation of being watched.

 

“He ever tell you why he broke it off with Ygritte?”

 

“It was vague. Didn’t sound like the whole truth, but he was twenty three. Not like you need good reasons to end a relationship at that age.

 

“Happened when that dick put Sans in the hospital.”

 

Her father hummed knowingly, “We asked him to stay with her those first two days. Your mom and I were at that conference with Arya and the boys, couldn’t get a damn flight.”

 

“And I was visiting Uncle Ben for that fishing trip. Out of reach. He stayed there with her the whole time, called me every hour until I picked up.”

 

“And Ygritte?”

 

She heard Robb sigh, “Got pissed.”

 

“She was unconscious.”

 

“I don’t think that really mattered to Ygritte. Guess she got sick of Jon picking us over her.”

 

“Picking Sansa over her?” Robb must have shrugged. “I always thought she was more level headed than that.”

 

“Senior year was the worst. She was always asking us who Sansa was dating, what Sansa was doing or where she was. Sam got in her face about it once.”

 

“Sam? Sam Tarly got in a woman’s face?”

 

“Surprising, I know. But she had it out for Sans and he didn’t like it. None of us did. Remember that girl Arya idolized?” He snapped. “Val. According to Jeyne, Val had it out with Ygritte, saying that she was a jealous bitch or whatever, scared of prettier, nicer competition.”

 

“Harsh.”

 

“Teenage girls are vicious.”

 

“But if Val was Arya’s friend—?”

 

“Hmm. Arya heard Ygritte threatened Sansa and sic’d Val on her. Fist fight in the girl’s locker room. Everyone assumed that Val made a pass at Jon or something, but it was really to get Ygritte to back off Sansa.”

 

“When did she threaten Sansa? And why have I never heard about this?”

 

“I doubt she took it very seriously. And I don’t know how Arya found out, but I honestly don’t want to.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

There was another long pause, the only sound in the room from the commentator on the TV, talking about a full back’s stats from the previous season. Sansa was starting to feel uncomfortable with all the eavesdropping, but she hadn’t ever heard this side of it before. Jon’s side of things. She _hadn’t_ taken Ygritte seriously back then, but that was mostly because Jon was the furthest thing from her mind at the time, and she assumed it was the same for him. Besides, she’d been obsessed with Loras Tyrell back then. Well, before she finally pieced together that he was gayer than Sean Hayes in _Will & Grace_. Had Jon really talked about her that much? Or was it something else entirely? For her part, Sansa didn’t even start dating anyone until after the boys graduated and moved onto college. There had been too many eyes on her all the time, too much pressure. She’d always felt vaguely uncomfortable with the idea, anyway, and she’d convinced herself it was because of Robb.

 

“What do you think about them living together?”

 

“I think that they’ve probably been living in each other’s pockets for months and that I hate the neighborhood she lives in anyway.”

 

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

 

“You’ve got a problem with it?” her father asked curiously.

 

“Neither one of them has been in a decent, normal relationship. There’s something to be said about doing things the right way, in due time. You know what I mean?”

 

“I do, but I also think that you’re trying to control something you have no control over.” She heard Robb shift in his seat, probably to squirm uncomfortably. “You couldn’t have stopped her from being with Joffrey. You couldn’t have stopped Jon from seeing Melissa.”

 

“But I _knew_ something was off with that bitch. I knew it and I didn’t say a damn thing.”

 

“She was a con artist and an addict, but he had no reason not to trust her.” Robb scoffed derisively. “Sansa isn’t a manipulative thief and Jon isn’t violent or abusive.”

 

There was a short, silent beat. “She’s been laughing more.”

 

“I’d noticed.”

 

“I thought it was because she finally ditched Harry.”

 

Her father chuckled, “Well, I’m sure it was a contributing factor, but women tend to smile and laugh more when they have something good in their lives, not because they’ve gotten rid of the bad.”

 

“We keep giving Jon a hard time, telling him he’s obvious, but it’s really _her_. She’s different. A good different.”

 

“She’s more like the Sansa we’ve been missing.”

 

Robb sighed heavily, “He’s in love with her.”

 

“He told you that?”

 

“Doesn’t have to.” Another beat. “Ghost,” Robb explained shortly.

 

“You think?”

 

“He’s never let anyone but Jon pet him.”

 

“Saw that, did you?” 

 

“He still won’t let me touch him. Eight years. I helped train the little shit and nothing. Three months and he’s rolling on his back for her.”

 

Her father snorted, “Probably just like his owner.” Robb made a noise of agreement. And Sansa wanted to laugh about their ridiculousness. They thought Jon was in love with her because she happened to have a talent with dogs, especially stubborn, skittish ones? Absurd. Jon shifted underneath her, humming in his sleep, so Sansa burrowed into him, sneaking her hands around his back. People started filtering back in the room, shushing each other and talking in lower voices. Sansa was starting to settle back into her nap when she heard the click of a phone’s camera. _Arya_ , probably, she thought. With an internal, irritated sigh, she decided to get back at her later. But maybe she’d get a copy of that picture first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fine, I cannot deny your desperate cries for more.   
> Lmao, just kidding. No need to feel guilted into commenting, I solemnly swear to continue for as long as possible, but updates will probably be sporadic due to moving/school/life time constraints.   
> Thanks so much for leaving love and feedback! It's always appreciated.  
> PS: I friggin spelled heroin wrong TWICE in the first part. Seriously people, tell me these things.

Sansa didn’t need to ask for a copy. The next day, it was all over Instagram, hundreds of likes, dozens and dozens of comments saying congrats and that they were a cute couple. A few people were ticked off they didn’t already know. Marg, Myranda, and a few of Sansa’s friends from work re-grammed it with the hashtag “goals.” And it _was_ a cute picture, even if Arya was trying to be a shit about it. She and Jon were curled toward each other, Jon’s head resting on top of hers, positioned around her like she was a body pillow. There was a soft, glow-y backlight, their different shades of hair contrasted nicely, and they looked peaceful and cozy. It was so sweet she almost wanted to gag.

 

“Why am I getting texts from people saying _cute pic_?” Jon asked drolly walking into the bedroom from the kitchen. Sansa wordlessly held out her phone to him, Instagram app opened to Arya’s page. “Sleeping Beauty and the Beast?” he read Arya’s caption aloud. “I’ll let you decide which is which.” He frowned and then tapped his phone a few times before holding it to his ear. “Her ass is mine— _Arya Lysa_ , you little shit!” He turned on his heel, arguing with her sister over the phone out into the kitchen and living room. He must have got upset because Lady started barking.

 

Finally the shouting (and the barking) died down and Jon came stomping back into the bedroom, tossed his phone onto the end of the bed, and did a dramatic roll onto the bed and under the covers.

 

“Did you give her the old what for?” Sansa teased, her belly shaking with laughter. His hand slid out from under the bedspread, flipping her off. She couldn’t hold in giggling then. She reached for the edge of the covers, fighting them off him and laid herself across his stomach.

 

“Are you really that upset about a picture?”

 

“No,” he grumbled sullenly. His next words were muffled by his mumbling and the arm strewn across his face. She physically removed it, and demanded he repeat what he said, you know, for human ears.

 

“The bubble’s gone. I liked the bubble.”

 

“The bubble,” she repeated.

 

“Yeah, the bubble. You, me, our own little world with nobody butting in or ruining anything or trying to convince you that there are about a thousand rich doctors who would chew off their left foot to go out with you.”

 

“Hmmm, too bad I’m into broke social workers without cannibalistic tendencies.” He swatted playfully at her and she snickered. On the other hand, she really hadn’t considered that they’d had a remarkable amount of privacy for a significant period of time. Both Joff and Harry had very publicly asked her out, took her to places popular among their friends and co-workers. Other than the occasional outing with Marg and Myranda, she and Jon hadn’t gone out overly much. Jon enjoyed cooking and Sansa was trying to pay off student loans, so they ate in a lot. Most of their dates consisted of hiking and dog parks or movies at home, occasionally they got lunch together. But it had all been low key, no spotlight, no awkward questions, and no social media, primarily because Jon didn’t actively use it. Everything was just so easy and comfortable.

 

“Well,” she said, rolling her head back and forth along his ribs, “We couldn’t keep it under wraps forever.” She turned her head just in time to see him scowl.

 

“That’s _not_ what I meant. I had no desire to keep you a secret. At all.”

 

“So—?”

 

“So, I just mean that now that it’s out there, it’s out there. We have no control over it anymore. It means people being nosy…”

 

“Specific people being nosy, you mean.”

 

“Very specific people. Ex-people.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about Joffrey.”

 

Jon snorted, “If that son of a bitch comes anywhere near us, I’ll make sure he never walks again.”

 

“Violent, but all right.” He hummed. “Harry might get drunk and do something stupid, but I really don’t think—”

 

“I was talking more about Ygritte.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“She calls. You know, when she hears things. But she’s shown up in the middle of the night before.”

 

“That’s—”

 

“Really fucking annoying, and I’ve asked her to stop, but it always happens. Like clockwork.”

 

“I thought you said you didn’t stay in touch.”

 

“We don’t. But whenever she hears I’m seeing someone, she’ll get trashed and call me or drop by unexpectedly. She never remembers the phone calls, but she’s shown up at the office before wanting to talk.” Briefly, Sansa thought of the conversation between Robb and her father the day before.

 

“Should I be concerned?”

 

He sighed, “I don’t know. Maybe?” He threaded fingers through her hair, twisting the strands. “She knows you, so I wouldn’t put it past her to ask around about what you’re up to and where you are.”

 

“So I should just tell security to turn away any visitors with red hair and a bad attitude?”

 

“For the next couple weeks, that would probably be the safest bet.”

 

“What is her damage anyway? It’s been, what? Five years?”

 

“About.”

 

“There’s a lot to be said for letting shit go.”

 

“Not one of her strong suits…she, ah…she’s always had a bit of a problem with you, so I can’t imagine she’ll take it well.”

 

“That’s what I hear,” she mumbled thoughtlessly. When she didn’t elaborate, he poked the side of her head to get her attention. She chuckled and snatched his hand in hers, playing with it. “I was eavesdropping again.”

 

“Not my favorite, but continue.”

 

She smiled up at him sheepishly. Sansa had a reputation among the Starks for knowing things before she was supposed to, or when she shouldn’t know it at all, because she listened in on conversations. It wasn’t _always_ her fault though. Starks weren’t exactly known for being quiet or sneaky. Except Arya.

 

“Yesterday, at the house, Robb and Dad were talking about us. And about Ygritte. I, uh, I guess I didn’t realize just how much she didn’t like me.”

 

“It wasn’t _just_ you…”

 

“Well, Robb made it sound like it was.”  

 

“Well, Robb didn’t like her,” he countered, “So he’s going to take everything she said personally.” Sansa cocked a skeptical brow at him. Robb was melodramatic, but he wasn’t _that_ dramatic. Jon sighed. “She didn’t like you or your family because you’re well off, and she thought Robb was only my friend out of pity. She liked to bring it up a lot. She said you guys treated me liked a charity case.”

 

“That’s such bullshit. And if we ever made you feel that way, it wasn’t done on purpose.”

 

“No,” he shook his head, waving her off, “I know that. But she didn’t. She didn’t get it because her mom bailed and her dad was never around much, so she lived with her grandmother who treated her like shit. She was just—angry and defensive, I guess. She just wanted somebody on her team. It was always—-her against everyone else.”

 

Sansa paused and rolled onto her stomach, scooching up so she could put her head on his chest. His hand immediately came down to cup her head, fingers rubbing small circles on her skull. Surprisingly, she understood what he meant. Just when she thought she and Ygritte Wild would never have anything in common, Jon went and proved her wrong. Feeling alone made you feel desperate. It made you do stupid, uncharacteristic things. It made you cling to people and places that were toxic. Sansa felt bad for her, felt bad that she had so much and Ygritte didn’t. Or maybe she did, maybe she had moved on and figured her shit out. Sansa hoped she had.

 

“Can I ask you something?” she prompted quietly. Usually when she did that, he would cheekily tell her that was already a question and she’d used it up. But this time he hummed his assent and moved his hand down to her neck, still massaging and gently squeezing the muscles there.

 

“Why did the two of you break up?”

 

“Told you,” he muttered. “She didn’t get it.” Sansa rolled to sit up, looking down at him propped up against the pillows. He certainly didn’t look _happy_ about the question, but he didn’t look mad or irritated either. She bit her lip.

 

“No, I meant…I meant what actually happened. Like—what prompted the conversation?” She waited for his answer nervously, picking at the skin around her fingernails. Old habit. Most of it was healed, and decent manicures covered it, but occasionally…Jon must have noticed because he grabbed up her hands, pulling them toward himself as he mulled his answer over. Finally he sighed and cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to their joined hands.

 

“It was the night of our sixth anniversary. We had plans. You know, dinner, show, whatever. Umm—but I got a call, it was an emergency. I told her we had to reschedule, she got mad, we fought, etcetera, etcetera.”

 

“What emergency?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“What was the emergency?” she repeated more animatedly. She felt like she couldn’t breathe properly. He looked at her, eyes heavy, and sat up, elbows to his knees and still looking at her.

 

“You. Your dad called me from Florida, said something was wrong and asked me to go check on you.”

 

“The night Joff…?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you called her from the hospital, like late or something?”  He worked his jaw, his nose twitching faintly. “Not from the hospital?”

 

“From the car, on my way to see you.”

 

“Seriously?” she asked, shoulders drooping. He shrugged.

 

“There was nobody else and he was freaked. And yeah, he might have been overreacting, but we all knew what that asshole was, Sans. I went over there fully prepared to have to haul you out and take care of you all night.” He rolled his head, stretching his neck. “It was worse than I’d expected, actually, so good call on my part.”

 

“Okay, but once she knew it was serious…?”

 

“Still pissed. She accused me of being in love with you, refused to at least come to the hospital and talk, though she kept calling all night. Didn’t have a problem doing that…”

 

Sansa frowned, “I still feel like I’m missing something here. I mean, there were extenuating circumstances, right? She’s not that unreasonable.”

 

He sighed, “No, she isn’t. I—” He fluffed up his hair, “I was supposed to propose.”

 

Sansa’s eyes went so wide it ached, “ _What_?”

 

“We’d talked about it, you know? That we were gonna finish school, get married, get through grad school together, get jobs, start a family, the whole _thing_ , right? That’s what she wanted, that’s what she was expecting. And, you know, I thought I was ready for it, but…” He trailed off with a shake of his head, not making eye contact with her.

 

“But what?”

 

He blew out a harsh breath through his nose, “But someone I loved was on an operating table and I didn’t know if she was gonna make it, and Ygritte wouldn’t even come and _sit_ with me.” He whipped his stony gaze back to her, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, “For like, five hours they thought you were going to die, and the one person who was supposed to be there to comfort me refused to because she was jealous.” He shrugged. “I was there when Bran fell. I was there for every single one of Arya’s ER visits. When Rickon caught pneumonia, when your mom got heat stroke. I even went up with you guys when Uncle Ben lost his foot to frostbite. It didn’t matter to me that it was you, I would have been there no matter which one of you was in trouble. I would have dropped anything for any single one of you. But I needed her, it was the one time I needed her the most, and she completely failed. There was no coming back from that. I could barely look at her.”

 

“Jon, I’m so sorry…” She felt immensely guilty. She felt like it was her fault. She felt like she’d ruined things for them. But the worst part was that she didn’t feel guilty at all because she got Jon. Ygritte’s loss meant her gain, and she didn’t feel bad about it even a little. He waved her off, leaning over to kiss her softly.

 

“I just couldn’t be with someone who was going to make me choose. Someone who couldn’t accept…what my family is.”

 

 _Oh_.

 

“Oh.”

 

He rubbed at his nose, “Mom would tell me over and over growing up that families are made. You make your family, they don’t just happen. And I wanted Ygritte to be a part of that, but she had to choose it too. I want someone who wants me, wants my family, not some imaginary, fantasy version of it.”

 

“That’s fair,” she whispered.

 

“If something had happened to you that night, if you had died because I waited until after that stupid date, I would never have forgiven myself. I don’t even—” He scoffed hysterically, shaking his head and turning away. Sansa reached for him, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. I’m fine. It all worked out, you showed up, right? You got to me in plenty of time.” Jon still wouldn’t look at her, stubbornly closing himself off. Brooding brooder who broods. She sat back. “We shouldn’t keep talking about this. It’s over and done with. If we have to deal with a stampede of exes, then we’ll deal with the stampede. I mean, it can’t really be much worse than Robb’s nuclear meltdown, right?” He didn’t answer, so she nudged his shoulder. “Right?”

 

He nodded slowly, “Right.”

 

Sansa groaned and flopped back against the pillows, “Okay Moody McMooderson. Go make my dinner.” He whipped around to look at her incredulously, brow arched high.

 

“Uh, it’s your turn to do some cooking around here. What do I look like to you?”

 

“Like a peasant serving boy who ought to be fetching his lady’s supper,” she snapped back. Jon pulled a face, eyes sparking playfully.

 

“I’ll show you fetching,” he grumbling, lunging for her. But Sansa was rolling off the bed and to her feet faster than he could move. She darted out the door, taunting him as she went.

 

“And screw you!” he shouted from the bedroom, “I’d be a knight! _At least_!”

 

She cackled, “Yeah, one that worked in the kitchens!” Sansa was halfway through a snort when his arms were around her middle, swinging her off her feet.

 

“No!” she shrieked, “Jon we _just_ cleaned the kitchen!”

 

“I do not know to what you are referring.”

 

“Jon!”

 

Lady and Ghost came charging in, nudging and licking at Sansa who was completely helpless to the onslaught. Ghost actually latched onto her pant leg, not happy that her feet were not solidly on the ground apparently, and tugged at it. Lady was hopping around barking, wanting to play too.

 

“This isn’t fair!” she whined laughingly, “I’m outnumbered!” Jon dropped her to her feet, arms still wrapped around her, and nosed along the back slope of her neck. She shivered when he nipped at the skin just behind her ear. His hands slipped beneath the waistline of her pants, one deftly undid the button and wedged open the zipper. “Jon,” she murmured, moaning and arching into his hand when he cupped her through her underwear. “Dogs, the dogs are still—” she cut off with a curse as he latched onto her neck and his fingers found bare skin.

 

“You’re the alpha,” he rumbled against her pulse point, “You tell ‘em.” Sansa only barely managed to grit out an order that sent them running to their kennels before he slipped fingers inside her. Frustrated, she slid a hand over his where he worked her and used the other to shove down her jeans and underwear, giving them both more space. She canted her hips back when he quickened his pace, encouraging the way he guided her to grind against him.

 

“There you go, beautiful, come on,” he muttered when she arched forward. She was so close, almost there, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Jon was fully hard up against her, and the itch to touch and kiss and tease was too strong to resist. So she jerked out of his arms, dislodging his hand from her, and spun around to do just that. His mouth was hot and hungry on hers, hands gripping low and tight on her back. Sansa walked him back toward the table, pausing only to fumble for a condom from the junk drawer (a necessary evil considering how often they didn’t make it to the bedroom). He must have predicted what she wanted because while she grabbed the packet, he shoved down his pants and boxers and sat in the closest chair, only to grab her roughly to him, guiding her onto his lap.

 

Sansa slid her hands up and down his arms, planting her feet firmly on the floor, as she swiveled her hips, rocking back and forth. Then she covered his hands on her waist with hers, bringing them to the slope between her hips and ribs, and she caught his gaze to make sure he knew what she wanted. He exhaled unsteadily and jerked out a nod, so she kissed him long and sweet, arms tossed over his shoulders to help her grind down on him. He talked as she moved, like he always did mumbling sweet, filthy things in her ear to spur her on, and not moving his hands even a fraction.

 

They’d figured out this part surprisingly fast. Most of the time, Sansa couldn’t handle being held down, she couldn’t handle not having an out or no control. Occasionally, if she was relaxed enough, it went okay. But most times, it was a no, and especially not from behind. All of that had been a constant issue in her relationship with Harry; he would push her too far, freak her out and then get angry when she bolted or flinched away. The whole time, she’d thought it was her problem, that something was wrong with her, that she needed to try harder. She’d thought that right up until the on time Jon had scared her when he got too rough. Right up until he’d rolled them so she was on top and slid his hands under his back, letting her do as she pleased, instead of getting mad at her. Instead of making her feel bad for it. Since then, Sansa on top was a pretty common occurrence.

 

She worked herself to completion on him, eyes locked on his while she peaked, but then she quickly changed gears. She lifted herself to rip open the packet and roll the condom on him, and without giving him a chance to catch his breath, guided him to her entrance and slammed herself down on him.

 

“ _Fuck_ , yes,” he growled out. She leaned forward, hands gripping the back of the chair for leverage, and clenched down and jerked her hip hard. “Shit, _shit_ , you feel so good, beautiful.” Jon kept talking as she fucked herself on him, bouncing and tilting her hips shamelessly to find her own release again. Taking care of herself first had also taken some getting used to, but Jon always insisted he liked watching her, that he got there faster if she did. So she held her breath and let go, the chase more important than the burn in her legs. It was all need, all instinct, her focus narrowed to the tight build in her belly and spine.

 

Jon came with a guttural shout, hands digging into her sides as he sharply thrust into her once then twice. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to her, and tilted her hips forward to milk out her own orgasm. He was out of breath and panting when she pulled back to kiss him, but she didn’t particularly care. She slipped her tongue in his mouth, tangling it with his, and pressed short, hard kisses to his lips in an attempt to soothe herself. Things between them had the tendency to escalate far too quickly for her to keep up, and she was left with her heart pounding and her head spinning. But she didn’t want to move even a little bit. He snagged her lips for one more thorough kiss before nuzzling into the spot above her collarbone, his hands finally drifting down her sides to her ass and thighs, stroking.

 

“Fuck,” he griped, “How the fuck do we ever leave the house?”

 

Sansa laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa deals with the Exes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know. It's been a hella long time since I've updated. But seriously, grad school is one selfish, needy bitch.  
> Anyway, just a tidbit until I can get momentum on the remaining pieces.  
> Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!

 

Harry showed up first. He came to the hospital, slipping in with a group of visitors. He’d done it before, and Sansa hadn’t minded overly much, but her supervisor hated it. And right now, she could have cheerfully strangled him. She was on her way back to a patient’s room. Tommy Hiddles, age seven, broke both of his legs in a car crash three days before. He definitely needed help working his wheelchair before he was discharged, and hopefully he would be out of his neck brace. He’d been complaining it was itchy. Harry intercepted her in the main hall. He looked as good as he ever did, standing there with roses, smiling charmingly. A few years ago, that might have worked.

 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Sansa snapped, walking past him without stopping. She heard him turn and follow her, so she picked up her pace. Of course, he was taller, so it wasn’t very effective.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry you feel that way, but I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“So _call_.”

 

“You send me to voicemail—”

 

“Then leave one!”

 

“You don’t call me back! And I dropped by your place—”

 

“You went to my apartment!?” she asked, absolutely flustered. She jammed a hand against the elevator button, hitting it a couple of times and clutching her clipboard to her chest.

 

“You weren’t picking up the phone!” he argued back, whipping the flowers around. She batted his hand down so he didn’t swing it into a passing nurse.

 

“Sorry, Stace,” she called after her. Stacey rolled her eyes and pointed to her watch. Sansa made a face, rolling her eyes. She turned back to Harry. “Don’t show up at my work or at my apartment. If I don’t return your calls, it’s because _I don’t want to talk to you_. We’re broken up, this is pretty basic.”

 

“Look, I just wanted to talk, all right? So I went by your place and some dude answered. And he said he’d just moved in and he’d never heard of you.”

 

She rolled her eyes again and stepped into the elevator, he followed of course. “Well I doubt the landlord told the new tenant my life story.”

 

“You moved?”

 

She hit her floor button. “Yeah, Harry, I moved. So what? It’s of no concern to you. We. Broke. Up.”

 

“We’re together for nine months and suddenly you can’t even update me on your life?” he asked incredulously. Sansa shifted her weight.

 

“We were together for over a _year_ , Harry, and yes, that’s exactly what it means.” Thankfully, the elevator went quick, soon dinging their arrival on the third floor. Instead of heading for Tommy’s room, she went in the opposite direction toward the nurses’ station. Deftly, she hit the call button for security, punched in her ID number and turned around to wait. Harry kept talking the entire time, kept up a running monologue of their relationship, how important they had been to each other, that he missed her, that he wanted to see her sometime, and who was this guy she was taking pictures with? Sansa just clung onto her clipboard, looking down the hallway to will the security guard to come faster.

 

Just when she thought she was about to lose her mind and slap Harry, she caught sight of a bulky figure with an odd burn scar on his face. Relieved, she waved him down, and even smiled a little when she saw his face darken. Harry didn’t even notice she wasn’t listening.

 

“Hey Sandy,” she said sweetly, “This gentleman can use some assistance finding the exit.” Roughly, Sandor “Sandy” Clegane clapped a beefy hand onto Harry’s shoulder, jerking him so he was forced to turn around. Were she less irritated, Sansa would have laughed uproariously at the way Harry stiffened and had to look up to face the big security guard. Sandy had worked at the hospital for well over a decade, and he’d seen just about everything. While he may not have got on with most of the doctors and a good portion of administration, he would bend over backwards to help out the nurses, techs, and therapists. Well, he would if he liked you. Sandy snapped his fingers at Harry, indicating he should start walking. It was a testament to Sandy’s size and overall horror-factor that Harry didn’t even protest. Gruesome head and facial burn scars could do that for you.

 

“Anything for you, birdie,” he assured her gruffly, shoving Harry along.

 

“You’re an angel, Sandy, thank you!” And Jon was _worried_.

 

* 

 

And he had a right to be. Because Ygritte showed up at their _house_. Now, he’d said that she would show up sometimes, but for whatever reason the idea hadn’t concretely settled into Sansa’s brain. Three days after Sansa had Harry escorted off the hospital’s property, she came home to find Ygritte Wild sitting on her stoop, waiting for Jon probably.

 

“So it’s true,” she said stiffly, getting to her feet as Sansa approached. It had been a long day; several patients refused to get up for therapy, one went into cardiac arrest on her table, and she’d spent an hour more than usual on the paperwork. She was so _not_ in the mood for this. But Jon’s car was nowhere to be seen, so she didn’t have much of a choice.

 

“Jon isn’t home,” Sansa answered coldly, getting her key out, fully prepared to shove past her and go inside. Without inviting her in of course. “If you’d like to wait, feel free, but it may be a couple of hours.” Or a couple of minutes, but Sansa didn’t care to make the distinction.

 

“I didn’t—I came here to talk to you,” Ygritte said in a rush as Sansa moved toward the door. She froze midway to inserting the key however, irked. She spun, eyebrow arched and voice strained.

 

“I think there’s not much for us to talk about. If you want to know about Jon, you should ask him.”

 

“I—Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to show up like this.”

 

“Obviously, you did,” Sansa interrupted before she could continue. She folded her arms across her chest. “Showing up without notice gives you a clear advantage over whoever you’re dropping in on, and gives you full control of the conversation. Because if you had asked to meet with me, I would have said no. Ergo, you’re here.”

 

“That isn’t—”

 

“I’m afraid it is. And I’m afraid I have nothing else to say about it. Your relationship with Jon is none of my business, and I honestly don’t care if the two of you are on speaking terms. But I will not be your intermediary. I won’t help you fix things because it has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

 

Ygritte was stunned into silence, either because she was angry or caught off guard. Sansa didn’t really know. She didn’t really care. Jon was an adult with the right to keep any company he chose, and if he chose to be friends with Ygritte again, Sansa would support that decision. Regardless, it wasn’t her job to make that happen. About a second before Sansa was going to unlock the door and leave Ygritte Wild on her doorstep, she stopped her again.

 

“You aren’t exactly what I expected,” she muttered sheepishly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

 

“Well, I’m not fifteen and confused about your hostility anymore.”

 

“I—I deserve that.”

 

“Which is why I said it,” Sansa huffed impatiently. “Look, Ygritte, I really don’t have anything to say to you…”

 

“I have a daughter,” she interrupted once again. Sansa froze, her brain whirring fast enough to hurt. _What?_ “She’s two,” Ygritte continued. “And really smart. Smarter than me, that’s for sure. And there’s this guy…a man. With a real job and a good head on his shoulders and he _loves_ Effie. And me. He wants to marry me.”

 

“So what the hell are you doing here?”

 

“What?”

 

“If you have all that going on, if you have this great set up, why are you _here_? What good comes from digging up the past?”

 

“I just—I thought if I could—”

 

Sansa sighed and stepped down to look Ygritte level in the eye. “All right, we don’t really know each other, and I’m not saying this just to get rid of you. Trust me, I’m indifferent to the whole situation. But—but take it from me? If you want to keep the good things you have in your life, you have _got_ to stop looking for ways to test it. It doesn’t need testing. You don’t need to make amends with Jon or be friends with him again in order to be happy, right now you just think you do. Because it’s real and scary and there are days you’re so full of joy that you can’t even breathe.”

 

“Yeah,” Ygritte whispered back, a couple of tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

 

“So let yourself have it. And let go of this shit. Trust me, it’s the easiest decision you’ll ever make.”

 

Even as she spoke, Ygritte was moving back from her, looking toward her car and then back at Sansa. She played with the keys in her hands, trying to keep a lid on her emotional state. With a quick nod, Ygritte turned to walk toward her car, still jangling her keys. Sansa watched her go, and was unsurprised when Ygritte turned back suddenly.

 

“Don’t tell him I was here?” Sansa answered with a reassuring nod, and waited to go inside until Ygritte drove off. The first thing she did was drop her purse by the door and go to let the dogs out of their kennels. They were trained to go right to the door to be let outside, but swarmed her instead, nudging at her legs and hands for pets and kisses. Sansa knelt down and submitted to their licking and nuzzling, laughing at the antic, and buried her face in their coats. Their familiar smell and warmth was soothing to her frazzled nerves. Her anger had fizzled out to sadness and exhaustion, and all she wanted was for Jon to walk through the door and kiss her.

 

Her wish was granted not ten minutes later. Jon found her in the kitchen, handing her a slotted spoon in exchange for a kiss.

 

“How was your day?” she hummed, leaning back into his embrace while she prepped dinner. He told her about a few of the kids he’d seen, a few foster parents he’d followed up with. Tiring, but mostly positive, he said. Then he asked about her day.

 

“Anything interesting?”

 

She shrugged, “Stubborn patients, minor heart attack during a session, nothing too crazy.”

 

“Someone having a heart attack isn’t _too crazy_?” he teased, nuzzling at her ear. Sansa hummed, turning to butt her head against his.

 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I think so, too.”


	4. And the Shadows Will Never Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Press Conference Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short blip.

The first time Jon stood in front of flashing cameras at his aunt’s side, he was six years old and the father he’d not met more than a few times was dead. The last time, he was nineteen and she was up for re-election. It had gone horribly. He’d had to leave the stage area immediately to vomit up his breakfast. He didn’t like being under a microscope, didn’t like people watching him so closely. Not to mention, every single time he popped up with Dany somewhere, the papers looked into him and his history, brought up his father all over again.

 

Made him sick to think about, actually. Mostly because from the way they all talked about it, the whole thing was Dany’s fault. As if it were a stain on her capability or faculties. The whole thing was some ridiculous sideshow. And this one was not much different. They were shining a light on her for another failed marriage, questioning her ability to run a city when she couldn’t run her personal life. There was one important distinction though. Sansa was there.

 

While Dany talked at the podium, Jon stood to her left, Sansa’s arm through his and their hands tangled together. He could feel the pressure mounting, the tension in the room escalating as she spoke. It was ripping Jon’s guts apart at the seams, making him all kinds of angry. Sansa’s presence was a welcome distraction, but he wanted nothing more than to leave and bury himself in her somewhere where nobody could find him.

 

“ _Later_ ,” she muttered discretely. Jon had to physically stop himself from laughing, tried to keep his shoulders from shaking too much.

 

“ _Get outta my head, woman_ ,” he said back, equally quiet. Jon felt a sharp nudge at the back of his ankle and nearly snorted. That would be Jorah, telling them to shut up. Unfortunately, Sansa was somewhat less familiar with the rules of being a circus performer, and her shoulders started to shake.

 

“…and as we can all tell from my nephew’s deplorable manners, I have clearly been speaking too long.” Jon outright snorted, causing the whole room to laugh. “I’ll open the floor for questions.”

 

They weren’t nearly as terrible Jon thought they would be. They weren’t exactly appropriate either. They asked if there had been an affair. They asked if she was a beard. Or if Drogo had been a beard. They asked how her loss of connections with his companies were going to impact the city. They asked if she was seeing anyone. Jon counted a total of 3 questions directly related to city operations, but everything else was overtly personal. They weren’t even trying to disguise it anymore.

 

“…and who’s this woman with Jon?” a reporter asked. Jon saw his aunt scowl as if the question were an impertinence, even though they had been fully expecting to answer that.

 

“ _Obviously_ ,” Dany answered scathingly, “she is his girlfriend. Do keep up, Thomas.” That got her an appreciative chuckle from the crowd. They still asked several follow up questions, for her name and occupation and how she met Jon. Dany only briefly tossed a glance at Jon, but they had agreed she would answer all of the questions. He had no desire to step in her spotlight, not even for personal reasons.

 

“The Starks have been good friends of the Targaryens for years, they’ve known each other since childhood. Now, if that’s all the questions you have about my poor nephew’s love life, I do have a city to run.”

 

Thankfully, most of the reporters followed Dany out, trying to get more of their questions answered. A few lingered, but that seemed to be more about free food and drink than chasing down anyone near Dany. Jon had refused to leave with her group, meaning her security team. It was such a circus and no one really gave a damn about hurting him anyway. He just wanted to get away from the cameras and the crowds. So once Dany was out the door, Sansa was pulling him into a smaller conference room and drawing the blinds. 

 

He collapsed into a wheeled chair, folded himself over his knees and took some deep breaths. Within moments, he felt Sansa's presence right in front of him, so he pulled her bodily between his legs, cushioned his head on her belly and wrapped his arms around her hips. He felt her hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing, her nails lightly scratching the base of his scalp. 

 

"How are we feeling?" she asked gently. Jon could only huff out a laugh, tightening his arms around her. 

 

" _We_ are feeling shitty."

 

Her fingers threaded through his curls, scraping his scalp with more pressure. "Talk to me, love," she responded, "You've been quiet all week, so talk." 

 

Jon let out a shaky breath, "Last time I was at a press conference...they asked me about my father. About what I thought of him." 

 

" _Jesus_..."

 

"One of them asked if I knew about the things he'd done. I didn't really have answers..." He pulled back to look up at her, let himself focus on those sharp blue eyes of hers. It was a much pleasanter image than his memories of the vultures swooping down on him. "Mum hadn't said much. And I never believed the stories she told me. Not one. Dany wouldn't talk about him. So after that I went looking for myself." He saw the crack in her facade, the wince of pain on his behalf. The Starks had never withheld information from their children. When they asked about Jon's father, they were told. Honesty ran rampant in the Stark household.

 

"You never told us."

 

"No," he shook his head. She was obviously waiting for him to continue, but he was having troubling finding the words. Instead, he sat back in the seat and opened his arms. Sansa took the invitation for what it was and slid deftly onto his lap. She put her legs over the armrest and leaned against the back, her arm slid behind his neck. Her weight was such a pleasant, welcome thing. He loved having her stretched out against him, breathing steady. She dropped her forehead to his temple and he wrapped his arms around her waist, bracing her against him. 

 

"I'm glad you're here. Thought it would be much worse." 

 

"A few less ghosts in the room, maybe?" she whispered. Jon turned his head slightly and captured her lips for a light kiss. They were light and teasing brushes, sweet little presses even as his fingers tested the give of her hip and stomach. 

 

She pulled back and hummed in contemplation, "I know that this was hard for you. But I also know Dany appreciated it." He only lifted his brows in acknowledgment. "What do you need? Anything. Name it." 

 

Sansa was being sincere, he knew. And fuck him stupid if he wasn't in awe of her for it. How in hell was he so lucky to find a woman like her? So he smiled, cupped her head and kissed her soundly before answering.

 

"Let's see...beef jerky." She snorted in her disbelief, so he kissed her laughter away. "You and a bed for the next ten hours. At least."

 

Her eyes flashed her delight at that suggestion, " _Much_ better." 

 

"But I really need that order, you know. Like protein first because--" She cut him off with a kiss and then moved onto his face, peppering each section while he laughed. "I'm serious, Sans, you have to at least feed your sex slave." He barked out a laugh when she bit his ear in retaliation. Jon's response was to dance his fingers up her sides, making her squeal out in laughter, flailing her legs. 

 

"Jon Snow, you--!"

 

She nearly jumped off his lap as the conference room door swung open to reveal a very sullen looking Jorah Mormont.

 

" _Busted_ ," Sansa whispered, still giggling.

 

"Oh shut up, we're not doing anything."

 

"Tell that to him!" she threw an accusing finger at the very unamused Jorah. Jon was struggling not laugh outright. 

 

"Are you two quite finished?" Jorah snapped. Sansa turned to look at Jon, a completely neutral expression on her face. He only raised his brows, waiting for a response. 

 

"He really wants me to make a sex joke."

 

Jon shook his head with faux solemnity, "I promise you, he doesn't." 

 

"Then he really shouldn't open doors like that."

 

"I absolutely agree."

 

From their seated position, they both turned their heads to look at Jorah disapprovingly. The older man scowled, rolling his eyes so hard Jon was certain they would sprain or just fall right out of his head. 

 

"The last of the vultures are gone. You're free and clear." 

 

"Thanks, man." 

 

Jorah nodded shortly, a small smile on his face. No matter what he said, Jon knew Jorah had a soft spot for Sansa. He'd once told Jon that Sansa reminded him of his mother, a very proud and stern woman apparently. But there was always a fond twinkle in Jorah's eye when he spoke of her. With that, Jorah left, closing the door firmly behind him. 

 

Sansa knocked her head against his to get his attention.

 

"We should get going." 

 

"Sure. We gotta make a stop though." 

 

She frowned, "Where?"

 

Jon spread out his arms incredulously, feigning offense, "I was  _not_ kidding about the jerky. You have to feed me, woman, I am not a machine." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: rideswraptors


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